


Chase

by SenshineKkaebsong



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Anal Fingering, Angst, Drama, EXO - Freeform, Kaihun - Freeform, M/M, PWP, Smut, bottomsehun, lightbreathplay, sekai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenshineKkaebsong/pseuds/SenshineKkaebsong
Summary: It’s been five years since Sehun defected from Exo. His sudden departure had been the talk of the town for quite some time, particularly where his rival and former fellow Agent, Kim Jongin was concerned. They constantly one-upped each other - most kills, fastest completed missions, the number of women and men they could seduce and bed in a week. That had been then, in a different time when they were young and naive. In their line of work, Sehun was forced to grow up too quickly and live a reality filled with too much and nothing at all. Now, things have changed but one thing remains; Jongin will always chase after him no matter where he goes.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	Chase

**Author's Note:**

> So it's my first time posting one of my kpop fics to ao3. You guys can normally find me on aff. The process of transferring everything here will be an extremely slow one so be patient with me! Until then, find me under SenshineKkaebsong on asianfanfics.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sehun hisses.

His hotel room offers a spectacular view of Beijing sprawled out beneath them - endless specks of bright lights dotting the cityscape, twinkling eerily under the blanket of smog that the building they’re in has managed to puncture.

Once it was Australia. Another time, Germany. Spain, Dubai, Argentina - he’s lost count of the hundreds of countries he’s been to. To him, they’re all the same. Large cities and quiet countrysides. Unfamiliar faces and uncomfortable beds. Jongin stands on the balcony framed by french doors, back pressed firmly against the intricately designed metal railing and arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t sound too pleased to see me.”

Sehun’s eyebrows twitch in irritation and Jongin’s smirk widens. “I’m serious, Jongin. Get out now or I’m calling security.” The younger threatens, jaw clenched. His hand is firmly secured around the towel loosely hanging off his hips, and even with the distance between them, Jongin can see the droplets of water dripping from Sehun’s damp, jet black hair and snaking its way down his pale skin that’s bathed in a soft glow from the crystal chandelier hanging above his head.

Sehun has a glock hidden beneath his pillow. He has a switchblade in the drawer of his nightstand and there’s a pretty 9mm Beretta concealed under his towel. He doesn’t need to call on the hotel’s security and he knows Jongin knows this. To an untrained eye, the room might look exactly as he’d left it when he’d gone to shower, but he sees the evidence of Jongin’s search. The pillow is tilted approximately four degrees to the left and has a rumple on its previously perfectly flattened surface, and his empty whiskey glass wasn’t that close to the night lamp. It doesn’t bother him though. It’s what they were trained to do. To assess potential hazards and be prepared for eventual disasters. And God knows Sehun and Jongin together in a room is a disaster waiting to happen.

He can easily get rid of Jongin himself - or at least try to. The older has an unmatched brute force that leaves Sehun as a close second but Sehun has the advantage of observation and inference which has proven him more useful than strength countless times. Still, he hesitates to allow things to escalate beyond repair. It’s a reckless dance that they’ve become absurdly familiar with, their bodies moving on muscle memory and their mouths uttering words that have been spoken innumerable times without thought.

Jongin laughs, warm and heavy, a smile stretching across his face. It’s a mockery to Sehun’s half-hearted attempt at getting him to leave and the younger allows himself only a second of embarrassment before breathing in the tension between them. His eyes follow Jongin’s every move as he approaches, like a panther stealthily stalking its prey on light feet, closing the doors behind him. Everything Jongin does feels sensual. The way he eyes Sehun, like he’s prized and precious, feel surreal and too intense all at once. “Relax. I won’t take too much of your time. I’m just here to catch up.” Jongin shrugs casually and then smirks, stopping just shy of Sehun. “You know, for old time sakes.”

“You’ve already wasted enough of my time.” Sehun snaps. The words are spoken with bitter memories of the past woven into them. “You have no business here, Agent Kim. Leave.”

“ _Agent Kim?_ You never called me that back at the agency. Why the formalities now?” Jongin asks, feigning surprise. He discards the blazer of his charcoal Caranceni suit over the chaise lounge and proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his silk shirt, folding the sleeves up to his elbows. Sehun almost shudders when he spies the welted scar running the length of Jongin’s inner forearm, the result of one of their nastier fights.

“What do you want?” Sehun spits. Five years of their constant push and pull is starting to wear him down. But if they don’t pretend, if they don’t fight and claw and bite and break, then what would they have left? Just raw, honest emotion -- that doesn’t cut it in the lives they’ve chosen. Jongin toes off his Oxfords, kicks them aside and steps fully into Sehun’s space, their toes touching. He can feel the man’s breath caress his lips. They’re so close, the heat radiating off him through his crisp, black buttondown seeping into Sehun’s skin. He smells divine, earthy with a hint of sweetness. _Black Orchid_ , Sehun thinks, _how fitting_.

Jongin’s playful smirk vanishes, twists into something so horribly vile and conniving that it has Sehun’s heart hammering against his chest, stomach roiling. Dangerous shadows lurk in the black of his irises. “You.” The older simply responds. Sehun expects the pair of plush lips just inches from his own to come crashing against his mouth, an action his body has become conditioned to welcome from years of experience, but nothing happens and it leaves him slightly disoriented.

“You know, Sehunnie,” Jongin speaks casually as if there isn’t an oppressive mass of sexual tension suffocating them. “I’m a bit disappointed - hurt even. Do you know how incredibly difficult it was for me to rush through my mission just so I could have time to visit my favourite person?”

Sehun scoffs. He knows Jongin wants him to make the first move. To admit that he’s desperate and has been longing for the older. It makes sense now, though. There was only one person on earth other than himself who could assassinate a highly revered political figure in a maximum-security environment and get away undetected and unscathed, and since Sehun had made his exit from the agency over a year ago, he’s looking directly at the culprit. “You fucker.” He bites, thinking of the mass chaos that will ensue come tomorrow morning once the news of the assassination of North Korea’s Minister of National Security on _Chinese soil_ of all fucking places, reaches the homeland.

“A job’s a job, sweetheart.” Jongin shrugs. He slowly rakes his eyes over Sehun’s heaving chest and down his sculpted abdomen, stopping at the trail of soft black curls that disappear beneath the towel. “I don’t have much time left. Let me know when you care to join me.” He strides over to the bed and makes himself comfortable, arms pillowed beneath his head as he stares up at the ceiling.

This cat and mouse game has become their personal version of Russian Roulette, always seeking out each other, always trying to break down and tear each other apart. Even when they worked together, there was nothing but violence and animosity between them. Yet they somehow developed a lethal attraction towards each other, a flame they knew was impossible to out once they’d felt the intensity of the burn. They knew from the very first time they clashed in a flurry of knocking teeth, angry bites and slick tongues that they would never be able to get enough. Sehun glances at the clock hanging from the wall. It’s well into the hours of the early morning - somewhere between two and three am. Time has always been a fickle thing and it’s with that thought that his resolve crumbles like it always does. He lets the towel slip from his grasp, pooling at his feet. The weapon he’d been holding between his thighs, falls onto the carpet with a dull thud as he ambles forward. Jongin turns his head, a pleased smirk framing his lips, eyes shining under the dimmed lighting. He knew the gameplay before the game had even begun.

Sehun stops short of the bed and opens the nightstand drawer. He scoffs when Jongin's body tenses at the action in preparation for an attack. As he rummages around, his fingers brush over the cool metal of the switchblade and he pauses in contemplation, but ultimately decides against it. He has to fly out tomorrow. Sometimes Jongin gets carried away with sharp objects and Sehun can't afford to bleed through his designer clothes in the first-class cabin. Instead, he produces a bottle of lube, half-filled and unscented. Jongin relaxes and Sehun huffs, climbing onto the bed and settling himself on Jongin, lean thighs framing his hips. “Relax sweetheart. I'm not planning on killing you… _yet_.” He sneers, slowly grinding down and receiving a sharp exhale from the man beneath him.

“Looks like someone has finally found their tongue.” Jongin retorts, hands flying to Sehun's boney hips, digging his fingers into the flesh to steady him. “Turn around. I want a show.” He smacks Sehun's right ass cheek to hurry along the process.

“Fucking prick,” Sehun mumbles, but rearranges himself, allowing Jongin to unzip his slacks, the fabric rustling as he tugs it along with his briefs down to his knees. Sehun settles lower on Jongin's bare thighs, focusses on pouring a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, smearing it around to coat the digits properly. He leans forward a little, unashamed of his current position. He's always been proud of his body, never hesitant to flaunt it and with Jongin, it's infinitely easier because he knows the older worships and craves it, even if his methods of devotion are more often than not, life-endangering. He doesn't bother with teasing himself, only drags his fingers over the entrance enough to coat it before pushing past the rim. The first finger slides in relatively easily with just a slight pressure.

Sehun shudders, pumping it in and out of himself methodically. Behind him, Jongin spits in his palm and jerks his cock, half-chubbed, stroking it with slow, lazy strokes, thumb occasionally flicking over the head and fingers running down his shaft to the base of his balls until he's at full hardness, thick and heavy in his hand. He lets out a shuddery breath, eyes laser-focused on Sehun’s glossy asshole, a thin, pale finger rocking into it. It feels like things are moving excruciatingly slow. Sehun’s broad shoulders are sloped down, relaxed, but Jongin’s never been benevolent enough to let him rest for too long. He delivers another stinging slap to the flesh of Sehun’s ass, watching it jiggle, red blooming over the white skin beautiful. Sehun jolts, hissing quietly but the glob of precome that leaks onto Jongin’s leg, warm and wet betrays him. The younger gets the idea though, and pushes his index finger alongside the middle, his own heat and tightness sucking him in. It stings a little, causes his cock to jump, a natural reaction to the pain.

The angle he’s at has his wrist straining and he looks over his shoulder, glaring down at Jongin’s lazy smile. “The least you could do is help me out here, asshole.” He snaps, locates the discarded bottle of lube with his unoccupied hand, and throws it behind him.

Jongin laughs, a low, rumbling sound, almost indulgent. Sehun doesn’t hear the bottle uncap but he does feel the dry, thick finger probe along the two inside him. It traces along his crack, presses against his perineum and back up to the puckered hole, rubbing it reverently. It’s about all the warning Sehun gets before Jongin shoves the finger into him. He hisses, the hand used to prop himself, digging into Jongin’s thigh. He hopes he breaks the skin. The added pressure travels up his back, stings his asshole, but Sehun’s had worse. He can take it. Stubbornly, he sinks back onto their hands, grinds down on the fingers inside him, rolls his hips frantically until finally, he finds that bundle of nerves that has a gasp pushing past his lips. Another finger would be ideal, but they’re short on time and it seems Jongin’s on the same page, pulling out roughly and sitting up, using Sehun’s awkward position to send him sprawling face-first into the bed with a yelp.

Sehun kicks out at Jongin, thinks he connects with his chest, but the older barely reacts, getting his feet out from under the man and rising to his knees. So they’re going to dog it tonight. Sehun can handle that. He spreads his legs, gets up onto his elbows, back arched low and ass up real good, giving Jongin the show he asked for. “Jesus,” The man sucks in a deep breath behind him and Sehun smirks. This time, he makes use of the lube and Sehun turns his head to see the way the liquid slicks up the thick, dark cock, precome beading from the flushed head.

“Come on, Jongin. You don’t have all night. Fuck me.” He taunts, pushing back, feeling the blunt tip smear wetness against his asscheek.

“Fucking bitch.” Jongin sneers, palm connecting with Sehun’s ass with a loud smack.

Sehun bites his tongue to muffle his moan, feels precome dribble from his head. His cock is aching. Jongin finally lines up with his furled hole, dick rubbing over the puffed rim teasingly. They can both be loud in bed but Sehun knows tonight’s going to be one of those silent ones. The air is punched out of him when Jongin sinks in, shoves his way past the tight ring of muscle, splitting him in half. His palms skid on the sheets from the sudden jerk, earning him a mouthful of thousand-count Egyptian cotton, pouring his drawn-out moan into it.

“That’s right.” Jongin hisses, pulling back, letting his head catch on the rim, before driving back in with a resounding slap of skin against skin. Sehun squeezes his eyes shut, feels the burning from the inside out, Jongin’s hot, fat rod spearing him in the best and worst way possible, breaking him down only to build him back up. “Fucking take it.”

A hand slides down his back, clamps around the base of his neck and squeezes, and Sehun fucking gasps, feeling his air passage constrict. He tries to breathe but nothing happens. Jongin’s fucking him in earnest now. Sehun fights to keep his knees planted, face stuffed into the sheets, tears rolling down his cheeks. His cock throbs, slapping against his stomach with every jolt as Jongin hammers him into the mattress. His fingers turn white at the knuckles and he purposely clenches around the cock inside him, hearing the muffled groan that’s ripped from Jongin’s throat. The fingers around his neck loosen and air comes rushing into his burning lungs. He gasps loudly, greedily sucking in as much oxygen as he can, mind going fuzzy from the high.

“Shit,” he croaks, pleasure tearing through him, toes curling. He’s going to come soon, embarrassingly so. Jongin drapes himself over Sehun’s back, fingers shifting to his hair. The grip tightens, scalp burning and Jongin fucking tugs, breathing harshly into his ear, hot breath fanning over the shell.

“Come on, Sehunnie.” He grits. “Scream for me.”

“Fuck you.” Sehun snarls, reaches a hand back to bury his fingers in Jongin’s sweaty mop of hair. His nails sink into it, dragging down and Jongin’s lewd moan pours right into his ear and settles heavily in his stomach.

Jongin bites down on his shoulder, rips his fingers from Sehun’s locks, tearing a pained moan from him. His scalp is on fire, shoulder throbbing, pain knocking him from every angle and making him delirious. Jongin presses him further into the mattress, arches his back more until his spine hurts, fucks in with abandon, like a man starved, the bed creaking beneath them.

He feels it, the moment Jongin’s hips stutter, his cock swelling inside him, body coiling tight, squeezing him in. Jongin ruts, drags his nails down Sehun’s side, leaving red welts, sinks them into the flesh of his hip and draws his teeth down against Sehun’s neck, sucking hard. Sehun cries out, the loudest he’s been all night and Jongin comes, entire body shaking, hips grinding hard and slow until Sehun’s ass has milked every drop of come from his spent cock. He pulls out fast and Sehun hisses at the sudden emptiness before a hand is on him and shoving him on his back. Jongin’s face is flushed, hair sticking to his forehead and shirt drenched in sweat. His cock hangs limp between his legs, chest heaving from the intensity of his orgasm, eyes blown wide with lust as he eyes Sehun hungrily. Sehun swallows hard at the sight, mouth dry because even like this, Jongin is fucking stunning. When he gets a hand around himself, he shudders at the sensitivity.

Jongin’s gaze burns through his skin, heavy and dark, and Sehun stares right back, transfixed, fucking into his own hand. His orgasm crashes into him like a tidal wave, hips jerking off the bed, a silent gasp pushing past his lips. His thighs shake as come pours out of him in thick, white ropes, landing on his stomach, chest and trembling fingers. Sehun’s entire body shudders, breath stuttering in his chest as the fire slowly subsides, muscles tingling from the rush of endorphins.

Jongin waits until his breathing has evened out before reaching down, fingers curling around Sehun’s sore entrance, gathering his come in his fingers. He brushes it over Sehun’s stomach, mixes their release together, like an abstract painting on the flat planes of Sehun’s taut body before bringing it to his lips. Sehun watches as Jongin sucks on his fingers, tongue dipping from between his lips to lick the digits clean. Then he leans over Sehun’s body and presses their mouths together, the bitter liquid of their combined fluids coating his tongue. He moans into the kiss, hungrily grabbing at Jongin’s shirt and deepening it and the older surprisingly indulges him, letting Sehun take, fingers drawing senseless patterns along the sweaty, welted skin of his hips. When the kiss breaks, Jongin’s lips are swollen red and he regards Sehun with a sombre expression.

“You should go.” Sehun rasps, his throat protesting around the words from having held back on using his voice.

Jongin silently slides off the bed and redresses, and Sehun watches him, gingerly sitting up and regretting it when pain nips at him from every possible angle. God, he’s going to be limping through the airport tomorrow and he’s sure there’s a hickey the size of India on his neck. He touches his fingers to the bite on his shoulder and grimaces when it comes away smeared with red. “Jesus, you’re a fucking feral dog.” He hisses, glaring at Jongin.

The man smirks, running a hand through his dishevelled hair and sauntering up to him. “Then next time, you should try to train me, baby.” He breathes against his lips before kissing him chastely.

Sehun’s fingers itch to reach out when Jongin pulls away. Instead, he curls them in a fist on his lap and nods once. Jongin returns it and walks out the door. Sehun stares down at the beige carpet until he truly starts to feel disgusting, come no doubt leaking out of his ass and staining the sheets. Standing, he hobbles around the bed, lips pulled tightly, and bends down to get his towel. That’s when he sees it, the small slip of paper jutting out from beneath the bed. Eyebrows creasing, he fishes it out with his fingers and reads the messily scrawled inscription.

_May 10th_

_Macau_

_Blue Lagoon Resort_

_Room 8894_

Sehun scoffs softly, thumb tracing over the words until they begin to smudge. His smile is a frail one, the message blurring before him as he blinks rapidly. He decidedly drops the towel and picks up his discarded gun instead, climbing into bed and putting it under his pillow. He’ll forgo the shower tonight. It’ll be two months till their next meeting; it’s only March -- he needs to keep as much of Jongin as he can.


End file.
